


Calvary's 'Ere

by TheDuchessUnseen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Lesbian Character, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuchessUnseen/pseuds/TheDuchessUnseen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being gravely wounded during battle, Amélie Lacroix, "Widowmaker" reflects on her life and love.  TW blood, death mention, violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calvary's 'Ere

**Author's Note:**

> The same fic I submitted to okheshivar's tumblr blog. If you have a tumblr go follow her, she writes really good fics and is a very talented artist.

Cold. Frigid, bone-chilling cold. That’s all Widowmaker felt as she huddled for what little warmth she could get around the small fire she managed to start. She looked weakly at her surroundings, the ice cave she had taken refuge in seemed to be shrinking before her eyes. Her breath came shakily as she glanced down at the bloody wound at her side. “Soon” she thought “I’ll be dead. “How ironic, the woman with a heart and soul of ice, freezing to death.” In the growing darkness, she thought back on how she had got here.  
  
The battle at the ruins had been brutal, the normally white, snow-packed ground was covered in rubble, ash and blood. She, as always was stationed high above the battlefield, in an old building across from the courtyard where the bulk of the fighting was. She was doing her job, finding targets and taking them out, one shot at a time. Her rifle seemed to move on its own, jumping from person to person. She saw Tracer, flitting around the battlefield like a butterfly flying through the spring air. Widowmaker half-heartedly would shoot at her, always missing her by just a hair. At one point, Tracer glanced up in Widowmaker’s direction and smiled at her, with that cocky half grin that made her cheeks burn, and said something to her. Widowmaker’s lip reading skills told her what Tracer was saying even though she already knew what it was the brown-haired Brit had said. “’Ello Amélie.”  
  
Widowmaker had wanted to acknowledge her, but then, a rocket hit the building she was hiding in. The force of the blast lifted her of her knees and flung her against the wall, like a child throwing a doll. Before she lapsed into unconsciousness she heard another large explosion, then another, and another… As she regained consciousness, the first thing Widowmaker had noticed was that the half the world was red. Slowly, she realized that half her helmet had been destroyed in the blast. Widowmaker pulled off the useless piece of headgear and had begun to pull herself from the rubble. That’s when she noticed the building she had been in no longer existed. It was now rubble, rubble that could have killed her. Crushing her, or trapping her under tons of stone in a makeshift tomb.  
  
Widowmaker pulled herself free of some of the rubble, no longer aware of the battle still raging nearby. That’s when she noticed the blood. She was patting her sides, checking for any wounds, when her left hand came up covered in the thick, red, liquid. Slowly, she looked down. She gasped as she saw her left abdomen, and the piece of stone as long as her forearm sticking out of it “I better leave it in, if I pull it out I’ll bleed out.” Widowmaker suddenly felt faint and fell to her knees. She took a few deep painful breaths before standing back up. She tried to take a step but fell immediately, her right ankle was badly twisted, maybe broken. Looking around she saw her rifle, battered and damaged, but it would work as a crutch. Crawling over, she pulled it out of the rubble and propped herself up onto it. Widowmaker looked over at Talon’s base and began hobbling towards it before she was struck with a chilling realization. “The rocket could have been Talon’s. No one else was in the building, the team was acting strange before they deployed.” All these thoughts rushed through Widowmaker’s mind in a flash, and the blood in her veins ran cold. “Talon wants to kill me, they want me dead, I can’t go back.”  
  
Widowmaker stood, blood still seeping from the wound in her side trying to figure out what to do. Calm gave way to fear as a voice in her head gave her what she thought was her only option. “Run. Run and hide.” She saw some ice caves about twenty meters away. “I can hide there.” She had thought. “Until the battles over, then I can find a way to just…disappear.” After what felt like several agonizing hours hobbling on her makeshift crutch; Widowmaker finally made it inside the caves. She had just taken a few steps inside, she didn’t see the slick ice floor sloping downward. Then the ground fell out from under her and she screamed as she slid down deeper into the cave. She hit a wall feet first and heard more than felt her leg snap. She finally bumped into another wall and stopped. She screamed out from the pain of her now broken leg, but she wouldn’t give up that easily. Her breath still coming in short, ragged gasps, Widowmaker sat up and pulled her rifle onto her lap. Working quickly, she unscrewed the long barrel and put it aside. She then opened her Talon standard emergency kit, and found some cloth bandages. With a grimace, she set the bones of her leg, and put the cold hard steel of her rifle barrel against her leg, then secured it with the bandages, making a makeshift splint. “Crude, but it will do.” She thought as she began rummaging through the rest of her kit.  
  
That had been four hours ago. She found some antibiotics that helped her puncture wound, and a small fire starter in her kit, the antibiotics helped, but the real danger was the cold. The bone-chilling cold that coursed through her body. She knew death would claim her soon, she had lost too much blood and no matter what she tried she couldn’t stop the cold. She looked at the slope ahead of her, fully aware that if it weren’t for her leg she could make her way up and escape this frigid hell. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to survive this. After all, she was Widowmaker, her very name bespoke tragedy and heartbreak. “Lena would say that that’s not my name.” She stopped, was Tracer, was Lena right? Was there still something good inside her, something…human? In the diminishing light Widowmaker pondered this. She thought of Lena, how her smile sent butterflies into her stomach, how her heart burned after a quick kiss, the shape of Lena’s lips as she said her name, surely that wasn’t bad. “Yes.” Amélie decided, “Yes, that was - I am good. Death gives you an interesting perspective.” she thought sadly. As more time passed she began to wonder what exactly Death looked like, was it fearsome like Reaper, or gentle like Mercy? Which one would come for her? “It doesn’t matter.” she decided. “I have forgiven myself, I got to know what it was to love someone, tout va bien.” Finally at peace, Amélie fell asleep.  
  
She was sure she would be dead, but she woke up once more. Amélie looked forward, it was night now, the only light was a few embers of her fire. “What woke me up?” she wondered, then she heard it, feet, clacking on the ice. “Talon.” She realized with dread. “So this is how it ends. Not by the cold, but by a bullet. It’s still oddly fitting.” she thought with a tight smile. “Well I am not going down easily, I’ll take you with me.” She decided and reached for the small pistol she kept holstered at the small of her back. “And I’m not dying laying down either.” With that, Amélie pushed herself onto her feet, fighting through the dull pain of her leg, and leaned against the wall, supported by her other leg, she clicked the safety off of her pistol. She felt blood once again begin to trickle down her side, the sudden movement reopening her wound. Amélie didn’t care, she would be dead soon anyway. A figure carrying a flashlight dropped down the hole Amélie had fallen through and began walking towards her. “Yes.” she thought, “Come into the light, I want to see your face before we die.” As the figure walked into the light, Amélie saw that it wasn’t a flashlight, it was an accelerator. “Lena.”  
  
Amélie couldn’t believe it, here, in front of her, was the love of her life, come to save her. Lena opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, Amélie fell on her knees, wrapped her arms around her waist, and began sobbing tears of pain and relief into the front of her coat. After a moment, Lena untangled Amélie’s arms from her waist and got on one knee, so they were at eye level. She looked at the weeping Frenchwoman in front of her and her heart broke at the sight, her whole body peppered in cuts and bruises, a clotted gash where her helmet had been destroyed. Slowly, Lena pulled her lover into a warm embrace and stroked her hair as they knelt in the cave together.  
  
“It’s all right love. The cavalry’s ‘ere.”

THE END


End file.
